Straight On Till Morning
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: It was at Blackbeard's mine that their friendship had begun. And it was at Blackbeard's mine where their rivalry would end. Or at least, that's what they assumed.


_A/N_

 _It's perhaps fair to say that the film_ Pan _didn't, er, pan out. That most saw it as more of a lilly than a tiger, and that it never landed with audiences, failing to hook them into the story._

 _Bad puns aside, I actually did like it, though I'm not unaware of its flaws. As much as I liked the characters, as undeveloped some of them were, I'm left to ask how Peter in the film would become "the boy who never grew up" (when his entire arc actually encompasses him growing up) and how James "I want to be Indiana Jones" Hook would end up being Captain James Hook. Shame we'll never find out._

 _So yes, drabbled this up._

* * *

 **Straight On Till Morning**

There was a rhythm to this. A dance, almost. One with words, yet without melody. A rhythm that could change at a moment's notice, yet always be part of the same song.

Hook was the conductor – rapier in one hand, and in the other, nothing, by virtue of that hand being the captain's namesake. A captain who, right now, was engaged with his nemesis in Blackbeard's mines. The place where it had all began. The place where it would end.

"Green tights, Peter? I always thought you looked so good in grey!"

Hook seemed to be enjoying this, Peter reflected. The Lost Boys had attacked the _Roger_ – no more pixum would ever be taken from this place. Blackbeard's legacy would be buried in the caverns that he'd created, and now, there was only one pirate in Neverland to worry about.

"Avast!"

He dodged another blow, his feet never touching the ground as their battle took them through the tunnels. Yes, he thought, Hook was certainly enjoying this. And part of him was too. The thrill of danger. The joy of flight.

"Too scared to strike, Peter? Are you a coward?"

And the enjoyment diminished. "I'm not a coward!" He thrust forward with his dagger, only for Hook to lock the blade with his hook, and to send the rapier on a collision course with his chest. Only at the last second did Peter avoid the blow. His body was carried back in his flight.

 _I'm not a coward._

"Remember this place?" Hook asked.

Peter remained silent. There was a time when he would have run. This time was different. He was no longer a child.

"I do." He gestured with his rapier. "You have no idea, you know. What it's like to be a slave."

"I don't, but-"

Hook thrust his sword forward. And Peter let out a cry as it tore through his flesh. The blade only pierced the side of his stomach, and not enough to do any damage. Yet still deep enough to draw blood. He staggered backwards. And for a moment, Hook seemed shocked. As if until now, he hadn't even understood what he'd been doing. As if unsure of what he intended to do.

But only for a moment. And the dance continued. It moved into syncopation, as Hook's movements became faster, and Peter's slower. Hook quickened his pace even further, as he pressed his advantage.

 _What's happening?_

He was Peter Pan. There wasn't a single Lost Boy who could best him. Even Tiger Lilly asked him for advice on how to wield a weapon.

 _Why can't I hit him?_

He tried to attack Hook with his dagger. He'd long since favoured this weapon – his ability to fly had granted him superior agility and speed to any foe, and he didn't want to be weighed down by anything heavier. But his ability to fly had long since been…muted, somehow. Harder. Slower. Less joyful.

 _What's happening to me?_

He didn't know. But he continued the dance, as Hook advanced. As the duel led them through the mines, long since abandoned by the pirates, and the slaves they'd once lorded over. How many people had died here, Peter wondered? How many lives had been snuffed out?

 _Does there have to be another one?_

"You said we'd always be friends," Peter protested. His arm ached, his stomach bled, and Hook…Hook looked like he was on the edge of reason. "You said that nothing would come between us."

"I'm an adult. Adults lie."

Another thrust, and Peter winced as his hand was cut. His dagger fell to the floor.

"But you know all about loyalty don't you?" Hook laughed. "Tick, tock, goes the clock."

"Yeah, and I'm sure the crocodile would-"

Hook roared, and Peter fell backwards. Hook had won. He could end this right now if he wanted to. But he stood there. As if unable to believe it was over.

"Long time coming, eh, Pan?"

Had it? When had it started 'coming?' Had it begun with the crocodile, when Hook had lost his hand? Or had it begun before? When had Hook crossed the line from friend to enemy?

"Get up," Hook said.

Peter remained on his backside.

"I said get up!" His foe's face softened. "I'll let you die on your feet."

Peter slowly rose. And wondered.

How long, he asked? How long had he been in Neverland? Years? Decades? It all felt like a dream. A very, _very_ long dream. He could recall that there was a time before this. That he had once lived somewhere else. That Blackbeard had once spoken of death being like a dream from which none could awaken.

"Goodbye, Peter."

Hook thrust his sword forward. And-

"No."

Peter leapt into the air, and struggled to stay afloat.

 _This isn't right._

It had never been this bad. His ability to fly had been reduced, ever since…well, at least since Hook changed. When his world had become less happy. When the dream began taking on elements of a nightmare. When he asked, 'when shall I wake up?'

"Get back here!"

Peter did so. Flying through the air, he grabbed his dagger. He flew around. Flying was easy now. Now, as he felt the anger course through him. As it gave him strength. He yelled the cry of the warrior. The hunter. The nemesis. So many had died here. What did one more matter? Why shouldn't that person be Captain Hook?

So he screamed. As did Hook. He avoided his blow and plunged the dagger into his shoulder blade. Hook screamed once more as he dropped his sword. Peter pulled the dagger out and they rolled. Through the tunnel, all the way to the edge. Above them was the sky, of stars beyond even the reach of Neverland. Below them was oblivion. Peter raised the dagger and-

 _No._

Left it hanging. And Hook smirked.

"Always knew you had it in you."

 _To do what?_ Peter wondered. _To win?_

"You're a good fighter. Good killer too."

He felt his grip on the dagger grow weaker.

"Blackbeard realized that a bit late, didn't he?"

 _No._

But it was true. The fairies had helped him then, but he'd directed them. Blackbeard had operated through his men, as they'd pillaged Neverland. Did that make him any less culpable?

"Go on then," Hook sneered. "Be a man."

Peter took a step back and sheathed the dagger. "Never," he said.

"What?" Hook spat.

 _Never_ , he reflected. He would never do it. He'd come close. Closer than he thought possible.

"I knew it," Hook sneered. "You're still a child."

"I am," Peter said. And he smiled sadly. "I'm not like you, Hook. I'm not an adult. And I never will be." He took a breath. "I'll never become you."

It was the truth, Peter told himself. Adults could lie. Adults could change, and see the world through jaded eyes. But children? He paused. He knew he would fight Hook again. Likely even enjoy it. And…maybe that was what he could take from it. The enjoyment. And to never cross that line into anything else. To go to that place where no child should lead. To leave the dream, and enter nightmare.

"Goodbye, James."

And he took to the sky. With an ease he had not felt in many a year.

He had flown once here. As he had fallen, almost to his death. He glanced back as Hook stood up and watched him. Never even drawing his pistol. As, for one moment, he became less Captain James Hook, and more his first friend in this land. The one who'd saved him. Helped him. Cared for him.

He kept flying upwards.

 _Straight on till morning._


End file.
